Grandpa & His Slimy Widowed Bf Love Loses

<3

Back with chapter two!! Again, this has been read through once or twice for editing but isn't perfect so please feel free to point out any more gramatical/spelling errors!

In this chapter, we get to look at little more at May and Oryn's past.

tw: mentions of death, grief, loss, slight bodily horror

Ch. 2

There was a glare in May’s eyes that no one had seen before. A look that made her seem more like her father with every passing second. As the beads of sweat slowly started to drip from one man’s head to the oak table they all sat, May sat straighter in her chair.

“He stays,” The solidarity in her voice for something that wasn’t human sent a shiver down the spines of her men. “And if any of you disagree, let it be known now. Otherwise, you’re all dismissed.”

The men started to stand from their seats, the drag of wood across the stone floor ringing in their ears. It was silent but for the noise of their movements; no one dared disagree.

“Alec,” May snapped, seeing the young soldier starting towards the door. “Not you. You stay.”

The rest of them filed one by one out the door, Alec’s hands shaking as he looked down at his feet. He’d never spoken directly to the Dutchess before. He didn’t even think she knew his name. He knew the meeting would be about everything that happened last night, so it wasn’t a surprise when he got the summons. She must know he was the one to start the whole thing…

The slow tick, tick, tick, of the ancient clock droned on as May sat behind her desk, eyeing the child in front of her. He couldn’t be more than twelve, maybe thirteen—nowhere near old enough to experience the horrors of war. Why the recruits kept getting younger and younger with each passing month, May couldn’t tell, but she couldn’t argue with the strength of numbers.

“You’re not in trouble,” she started. She could see him shaking, the red hue of his cheeks as he stared at the floor slowly fading the more she spoke. “But there’s something important we need to discuss.”

There was a slow and painful droning starting to cradle the base of Alec’s neck.

“Please, sit.” May said, extending her arm to the chair in front of her. Alec looked up at her with tears brimming in his eyes, his hands slowly reaching for the arm of the chair before his heavy feet began to move across the floor.

“There was a sacrifice made by a man last night that I’ll never be able to repay,” she said, taking her time to make sure Alec heard the severity in her words. “I need you to know that your lieutenant’s family is going to be taken care of by me, personally.”

Alec’s shoulders slowly started to unfurl themselves, a small wave of tension slowly washing away from him.

“What happened here last night can never happen again.”

Alec’s brows furrowed as he wrinkled his nose, sniffing a bit to keep his tears at bay. “How can you say that and let him stay?” He said, his eyes pleading with May.

There was a part of May’s heart that, in that moment, slowly started breaking for the small boy. “He didn’t know,” she started, giving way to Alec shaking his head.

“No animal ever does,” he choked, a tear starting to fall.

May stood from her desk, her cloak shrouding her massive form as she walked around it to kneel beside Alec. She took his hands in hers, looking up at his eyes, past the tears staining his cheeks. “He’s not an animal. He’s lost. And I think bringing him here…” she sighed, dropping his hands but keeping her eyes locked on his own. “I think it changed something inside of him.”

As she stood and walked back to her desk, Alec wiped his tears with the back of his hand. They weren’t shaking anymore. The low hum slowly crept up his skull. “Where did he come from?” he asked, “What is he?”

“I don’t know what he is. I don’t think anyone knows what he is. But there’s human in him. Because of that, I’m not going to subject him to whatever torture some High Councilor or Mage might have in mind for him.” She locked eyes once again with Alec, her own brow furrowing to match his. “I need your help, son.”

Less than twelve hours ago there was a pain and a guilt racking Alec’s chest, swallowing him whole as he prayed for the life of a superior whose death he felt responsible for. And yet here he sat now, being praised for his duty and taken aside by the Dutchess herself to ask a favor. His sense of duty was whole and always would be; his grandfather’s grandfather plowed the fields his grandchildren one day would, and through all those generations they’ve diligently served May’s family. He didn’t question May, but in that moment, he questioned her motivation. In no scroll or parchment anywhere in Aphoreum did it say to praise a man for causing death—rather, the Gods call it a Natural Sin unless to protect one’s self—and yet here he sat.

“I need to know if I have your full loyalty, Alec.”

He swallowed a lump in his throat and sat higher in his chair. “You do, my Lady.” The words fell off the boy’s tongue before he could have a moment to think of them.

May nodded. “I’m sure you can tell that we’ve been slowly building ourselves up since the last set of port raids, but in a way much different than in the past. Steering away from Crown Union Mercenaries, the King’s trade policies… Do you think of me as less of a leader for that?”

“No, my Lady.”

“And how do you think of the church?”

It was a loaded question, of course. There was a million and one things Alec could’ve said in that moment, knowing the God’s wrath and understanding the world’s Natural Chaos. There were those who were so afraid of the God’s that they’d cower in the daylight for fear of being stuck by a stray bolt of lightning.

He huffed out a solid breath. “Are you asking me what I think of the Gods, my Lady? Or the church itself?”

The smirk that spread on May’s lips told Alec that he’d answered correctly.

“There’s something coming, son,” May said, “and it won’t be for those who can’t stomach it. That… thing you saw last night, that beast—there’s a man in there who can learn how to control that. Do you understand what that means?”

Alec thought he did, and slowly nodded.

“Good. It’s settled, then.” May stood from her desk, prompting Alec to do the same. “I’m promoting you. Congratulations, . You and I will see a lot of each other. I’m going to provide you with a copy of the keys for the manor’s archive. You can read, yes?”

Alec was shocked, his jaw all but sitting on the floor. He nodded vigorously.

“We need to figure out what he is. And I don’t want them to know.”

-

Oryn and May sat in silence in May’s study, the cracking of the fire behind them burning strong, the spring wind softly blowing through the open window.

May looked at Oryn and saw someone she thought she recognized. There were the bags drooping under their eyes and ashen skin, showing a lack of sleep. But that wasn’t what was different. The way they sat in the chair said something was amiss; the muscle under their shirt seemingly misplaced, the crook of their jaw not matching the glide of their neck. This was someone May knew, but not someone she could truly recognize.

After moments of May’s puzzling stare, she spoke, her words soft and clipped.

“What are you?”

May’s presence in that mighty carved chair positioned behind the sturdy oak desk was something Oryn wanted to keep fresh in their mind. They’d never seen May as anything other than an afraid child, much like the way May must have viewed Oryn. Until now, of course. As a sigh escaped their lips, Oryn let themselves fall deeper into the cushioned chair they sat upon. There was no use in fighting it now; not here, not with her.

Their eyes traced the grains of the wood in the desk. “I don’t know.”

Oryn understood rules: there were things you couldn’t do, or bad things would happen as a result. There were small rules, like being gentle with glass potion bottles. And there were big ones, too, like the rules made by a king. Seeing May sitting behind the desk reminded them of all the rules they had to follow, the order they had to keep; there are consequences to actions, punishments when rules are broken. Oryn knew they were wrong, knew if anyone else had done what they had, they’d be strung up and left for dead—that’s how May ran her duchy. And yet, here they both sat, in comfortable chairs beside a blazing fire, the sweet scent of blooming flowers in the chilled air settling over the room.

“Who are you?”

Oryn’s eyes met May’s. “I’m me. I’m not—”

“But you look different. You’re not… you’re different, somehow.” She leaned forward, resting her arms on the desk, peering at Oryn like there was something missing.

“I don’t know how to—”

That puzzled expression vanished from May’s features as she slammed a hand on the desk, Oryn jumping in shock. “What do you fucking know?!”

~

There was a rush of something hot sucking May down to the floor, the heat scorching her skin and burning away any thoughts she had outside the pain. The blinding light of something better unknown sent her eyes rolling back in her skull.

When they told her there would be a price to pay, she didn’t expect something like this.

Her screams of pain soon mixed with Oryn’s screaming pleas, falling upon the desperate yet stern ears of the three women.

“You’re killing her!” Oryn shouted, their own skin started to vibrate with what they thought was fear, or maybe anger.

Starla wrapped her long, bony arms around Oryn’s waist, restraining her with more strength than many thought the old hag capable of.

Elisa’s eyes darkened, her brow furrowing as she took a long look at May writhing in pain on the floor. “Maureen…”

“She begged me!” Maureen started, her stable hands—one touching May, the other, her brother’s corpse—starting to shake. “She begged me…” she trailed off, sweat running down her neck as she sucked in a deep breath.

“If she could pay—” Elisa started.

“She can! She can pay! She’s—”

There was a reverberation felt throughout the cabin, the wooden floor cracking and splitting, the mud walls crumbling in places and every small animal and bug scattering out from the structure and into the forest beyond. Then all was silent, but for the settling of the cabin back onto its own weight.

May was left on the floor—unharmed, unconscious, and unable to pay.

Maureen lifted her hands from both bodies, stepping away from them as if she’d just seen something unholy.

Starla released her grip on Oryn, who fell to the floor and scrambled to May, cradling her head on their lap. “What were you doing to her?” They spat at their guardians.

Starla joined Maureen and Elisa, the three of them staring at the two on the floor.

“Why didn’t—”

“She asked for…”-

“What is she going to do?”

-

When May finally found herself waking, it was in a soft bed of furs in front of a roaring fire. She felt as though she had just fought a war; she felt as though she lost.

Maureen was at her bedside, softly cooing a lullaby under her breath and wiping at the sweat staining May’s brows. As May looked up at her, her eyes practically dripping with hope, she was met with Maureen’s look of unrelenting grief.

Through violent, choking sobs, May asked her, “Why?”

Maureen shook her head, Oryn bolting through the doorway of the small room, their breath heavy and eyes wide. “She’s awake?”

May grabbed Maureen’s arm, raking her fingers down her skin. “WHY?” she screamed, hot tears falling to the blankets surrounding her, breath hitching in her throat.

Oryn ran to her bedside, a look of astonishment upon their face. Here, for the first time, Oryn was meeting Grief; something primal and carnal and deeply engrained in what it means to be alive. Oryn beheld the only friend they had known in her throws of pain and wails of loss, clawing for something that didn’t exist and gasping for air that seemed so easy to breathe.

Maureen turned to Oryn, who was tempted to place a hand upon May’s back and comfort her the way they thought they should. But the look on Maureen’s face—the daggers in her eyes—screamed not to get involved. This is a human thing, her eyes said, something you can’t understand.

Maureen held May as she screamed her throat raw and bloody; she held her through her convulsions and the begging and the desperate feeling that comes from being and feeling utterly and completely alone in the world.

Oryn felt like it was something she could understand if Maureen would ever let her get close enough to someone to know.

That distance, though, that forced space Maureen created between Oryn and anything else living, was a punishment she greatly deserved.

~

“I know I’m not all human,” Oryn said, their low voice droning out the sound of the fire and the wind, “But I don’t know anything more than that.”

May sat back, folding her arms in front of her. “What happened?”

As Oryn gazed at May, they started to cry. First it was just a small tear trailing down their cheek, gently dripping into their lap. “I… I killed someone,” they whispered, trying to blink away the salty tears but only making it worse. “I killed someone,” they repeated, their eyes boring into May’s soul as she sat in front of them, pleading for something they didn’t quite understand yet; mercy.

She wept in front of May, tears pouring seemingly with no end, as they felt the guttural urge of knowing they’d done something wrong and needed to pay for it.

An amazing author that deserves your read!!

The General Prologue

Hello to any and all who find this post! I decided to take a chance here and post the general prologue for my fantasy novel. I've been (very slowly) chipping away at it for the last three years or so and I'm hoping hearing people's opinions on it might help to reinvigorate that spark to keep going. The chapter itself is below the cut and features elements of high fantasy, cosmic horror, animal death, and other unsettling imagery, so reader discretion is advised. Thank you for your time and attention, welcome to a small corner of my imagination :)

Prologue

“Be kind to the stranger. Give them food and drink, but never let them stay the night; the world turns real unfamiliar when the sun goes down.” 

~Red Ridge Mountain Proverb~

Elisenda

Of all life’s simple pleasures, Elisenda’s favorite was sitting with her dog and watching the sunset. Every evening, once the day’s work was done, she would reward herself with a cup of tea and barley bread, soaking up the last rays of the dying sun and greeting the pale light of the newborn moon. She practiced this tradition for the better part of forty years with various companions at her side, though none could replace her sweet late husband Horatio. 

It had been him who convinced her to slow down and enjoy what her late husband called “life’s little miracles.” If only he had known just how much of a miracle he was; friend, father, and husband. Elisenda saw her Horatio’s face every day in their son Alfi, another one of her former gazing companions, who had just recently taken up the habit of missing the sunset in favor of sneaking off to see the miller’s daughter after he finished his chores. 

The amber of the horizon stepped back to allow the full beauty of the scarlet sun to flourish. As she sipped her tea, Elisenda broke off a small chunk of bread and tossed it down to Lady, the family dog, who enthusiastically wagged her tail for more. The drink’s warmth mixed with the cool breeze of the new night’s air, creating a sensation like no other. Elisenda closed her eyes, taking in the full majesty of nature’s splendor. 

When the sun's light had finally died and the night’s bugs began to sing, Alfi had yet to return home. Usually he would be certain to get back to their farm before dark, as there were all sorts of dangerous creatures that could harm a fourteen-year-old boy. Few more minutes, then I’ll get to worrying, she thought to herself. 

Elisenda gazed up at the night sky, seeing all of the stars looking down on her, wondering if they truly were angels, just as her mother had once told her. One thing that was certain, the veil that used to shine so brightly had dimmed over the course of her lifetime. No matter what religion people devoted themselves to across these lands, all acknowledged the great rip in the fabric of the sky only visible at night above the Red Ridge Mountains. 

Though all beliefs had their disagreements about how to live and who to believe in, just about everyone agreed that the massive interconnected streams of light that hung high above Cairdeas were a gateway to something greater. As to what exactly that something was, once again, there were many schools of thought. In general, people called this divine phenomenon “The Veil,” and Elisenda’s farm offered a full view of its splendor. 

While its beauty seemed like an eternal blessing, over the course of her lifetime, the Veil had changed. As a little girl, Elisenda could see the brilliant colors glowing and moving from her home at the southern tip of the mountain range. She remembered watching the way the green lights would shift their hue to shades of blue, then come back around to green again. The way they moved was like watching the very heavens dance, both awe inspiring and disconcerting in their sheer magnitude. Over the years, the colors seemed to burn more dimly, the streams seemed to shrink in their number, and the disappearance of this clear divine presence left Elisenda feeling even smaller than before.

She attempted to take another sip from her tea, only to realize there was none remaining. As for the bread, only the heel was left on the small linen she had wrapped it in. Lady, who had been patiently seated and ready to be fed another morsel, looked at it with longing in her aged eyes. 

“Here you are, old girl.” Elisenda said as she tossed her the last of the food. “Meant to split it with you, guess I just got lost in thought. S’pose that means we’re both getting a little long in the tooth, huh?” 

Lady seemed not at all bothered by the delay in delivery, instead, she was merely content to be eating. Elisenda pet her on the head, scratching between Lady’s ears with a smile. Her mind turned back to Alfi, who still had yet to return home. It’s not like him to just up and disappear like that. Her lips tightened and her heart began to race, but Elisenda kept an even tone as she spoke to her dog. 

“Go find Alfi and get his ass back here, won’t you girl?” She asked. 

Ever the loyal companion, Lady wagged her tail enthusiastically. She understood the command and darted off into the night without hesitation. Elisenda already felt better about the situation, having full confidence that her dog would bring her son back safely. She grabbed her chair and brought it back inside, along with her tea cup. 

Elisenda grabbed a fresh candle from the cupboard and placed it in the lantern out front. She created a small flame with a strike of a knife against firesteel and a sliver of wood, careful not to let it go out as she carried it outside. When she lit the flame, she noticed just how loudly the candle crackled as it burned. Elisenda closed the latch of the lantern, muffling the noise, but it still remained the only clear sound she could hear. Only then did she realize that the candle itself was not loud, but the rest of the world around her had gone silent. 

There was no familiar rustling of the corn stalks, no chirping of bugs, nor birds calling out to one another. A chill shot down Elisenda’s spine as she realized that something was deeply wrong. She wasted no time in grabbing Horatio’s old spear off the wall, quickly slipping her boots back on, and taking the lantern from beside the door. The candle within would only burn for a short while, but there was only a small yet dense stretch of forest between her and the next homestead. She hooked the light to her belt and dared to brave the darkness of the woods that divided her from her nearest neighbor, the miller. This is no time for fear. Alfi and Lady might be in trouble.

The pathways she walked day after day felt like a safe haven, leading right up alongside where the farm ended and the thicker brush began. Each step sounded as if she were throwing her foot down on the ground with all her might, but it was merely the silence of the world around her that emphasized her every movement so much. Elisenda steadied her breathing, then looked down to see the clear divide between the beaten path and the unfamiliar woods. She tightened her grip on her late husband’s spear, praying to Lugus’lumfáda for his holy protection. 

Elisenda took her first step forward, then another, followed by another, with her eyes wildly darting from side to side as she continued. You’re doing this for Alfi and Lady. You’re the biggest and most dangerous thing out here. You’re going to get them back and get everyone home. She glanced over her shoulder, noticing just how far she had progressed from the safety of familiarity. The path was well behind her, yet the only sounds she heard were still the ones she was creating. 

She used the tip of her spear to push aside a large tangle of downed branches and shrubbery, only to be met with two large glowing eyes staring at her. Without hesitation she thrust her weapon forward, piercing the chest of the creature before her, yet those eyes remained open. Elisenda paused, grabbing the lantern around to get a better view of the animal she had speared. A rush of emotions came over her as she looked into the lifeless face of Lady, whose canine body was inextricably conjoined to the mess of leaves and branches, contorted into an unnatural position. 

Elisenda fell to her knees, covering her mouth to keep herself from loudly weeping. She examined the corpse of her beloved pet, finding far more questions than answers. Lady had scratches and rapidly drying blood over her eyes and snout, as if she had just been in a brutal fight. Across her back, thick vines rippled in and out of her skin, cutting through flesh with ease. The plants looked to be simultaneously impaled into Lady as well as bonded to her, with some small patches of fur sprouting along the twisted roots. Lady looked up at her owner, her jaw loosely dangling unnaturally wide, yet her gaze still held the same quality Elisenda had known since she was a pup. “What happened to you, sweet Lady?” She asked through tears.

The poor dog’s head remained upright, her eyes wide open. Her expression looked as though her final moments were those of a fear greater than any she had ever known, a primal terror that had overcome the entirety of her being. Against her better judgment, Elisenda looked into the eyes of her beloved dog one last time. It was then that she noticed a peculiarity in the lantern’s light, one eye was its usual dark brown color, but the other had a new greenish hue to it. That’s not right. Looks more like Alfi’s than it does Lady’s.

The candle began to crack over and over, the sign of an untrimmed wick and the flame burning out too quickly. She pulled Horatio’s spear from Lady’s grotesque carcass, dropping it on the ground and bringing the lantern near the open wound. Elisenda touched the odd patch of bare skin she had managed to skewer, fighting with all her might to keep the unspeakable thought in the back of her mind at bay. To her horror, Elisenda watched as the flesh of the open wound began to knit itself back together with plant-like fibers pulling each of the separated areas of flesh closer. 

She stepped back, reaching down for the spear only to be met with a thick overlapping network of roots and vines. Elisenda turned to run, but her boots refused to move, quickly swallowed by the entangled mess of vegetation. Panicked, she opened the lantern and grabbed the dying candle to try and start a forest fire, but it was too late. Vines constructed of mixed flesh and plant fiber took hold of her arms, knocking the light to the ground. 

Slithering up from the darkness, an eldritch beast, defined not by a face but by its oppressive presence, emerged from the shadows, and snaked up Elisenda’s leg until it wrapped itself around her chest. Each time she exhaled, its construction grew tighter and tighter. The light of the candle finally gave out, leaving them both in total darkness. “Lugus’lumfáda, Danu, all ye gods above are cruel monsters!” Elisenda cried out. 

The clouds that veiled the moon parted, and in the pale light she saw the twisted visage of her darling Alfi, the living memory of her dear Horatio. His slack-jawed mouth took in a pained breath. The voice that emerged carried the quality of a band of disharmonious flutes, each competing to play over the others, with every word taking great effort to pry itself from his throat. “We…are…not…gods…” 

What followed was a small twinge of pain at the nape of her neck. Elisenda tried to prepare herself for the experience of death, for an intense agony or an indifferent numbness, but instead she felt warmth moving through every inch of her body. In her mouth, she tasted a meal with the texture of beef but the taste of pork; and though she never chewed or swallowed, she already felt herself nurtured by the tender meat upon her tongue. 

Elisenda’s mind ceased to race as her rapidly clouding thoughts floated away down a river of consciousness. She had always feared dying, she had been afraid of slipping into the darkness alone, yet here she did not feel any loneliness. She felt as though all she knew was fading away, becoming a part of something more. She did not sense the cold grasp of death; in fact, she did not feel very dead at all. 

i am shrunken down and brought to the gnome world and when i attempt to assimilate to their culture I use an acorn cap as a hat and they all laugh cheerfully at my silly mistake of wearing what they use as a bowl like a cap and though this is a transgression that would have humiliated me in my human life I am instead laughing alongside them at my humorous misunderstanding

nobody does it better than the stardew valley chicken

lets goooooo little dude you know exactly whats going on

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Coffee: Does your character hold a lot of grudges? What is something they are bitter about?

Oh, May? Holding grudges? Yeeeaaaah.... she has a lot of rage inside 😌 From one thing to the next, she's been left making choices that were not of her design. Nothing that has befallen her was an opportunity, but rather a curse she needed to learn how to bear. And she had no say in that. Her anger comes from the facade of free will that comes with the responsibility she carries, knowing she will never truly make a choice solely for herself.

handing you all a quick silly thing 🥺

i think baymax could run doom. i think he has doom somewhere in his files